Les Revenant
by Heartless Effervescence
Summary: "You know those novels they made us read in grade school? The ones that claim time heals all wounds? They were right! They were fucking right. Just when I finally accepted what happened, you pop up and act as if nothing happened." AU


"You know those novels they made us read in grade school? The ones that claim time heals all wounds? They were right! They were fucking right. Just when I finally accepted what happened, you pop up and act as if nothing happened."

 _noun_ rev·e·nant \ˈre-və-ˌnäⁿ, -nənt\

 _one that returns after death or a long absence_

"May I come in?"

* * *

Everything was a blinding whir. Ears numb, eyes glazed, breath hitched as a tsunami of emotions flooded her senses. She could only put a finger on one emotion: Anger. Rage. Fury. Cold, white, hot fury that boiled in her guts and sent fire coursing through her veins. Hands balled into tight fists, she felt her fingernails dig painfully, numbingly, into her palm, but it was nothing compared to the years' worth of turbulence that she swallowed day after day as a result of what happened.

Nothing stopped her from launching from her place at the door and deliver a stinging slap to a person who stood inches above her. One. Two. "'May I come in?'" she sneered, repeating the words of someone whom suddenly dropped out of her life without a warning. A pained expression painted her dark brown eyes, the flecks of light illuminating from the dimmed chandelier above the hallway. "That's all you have to say?" she spat out, hand coiling away from the pale face that was becoming pink from the impact of her hand. "Answer me!"

The latter exhaled, extending a slender hand towards her, mouth moving to speak.

She, however, did not let him continue. Taking two steps back, she whispered hoarsely, "You know those novels they made us read in grade school? High school, even." She laughed humorlessly, bitterly, brown eyes fixated on anything but the person in front of her. Her breath began to accelerate, her bare feet striking against the wood floor as she paced the hallway, sucking air through her teeth. "The ones that claim time heals all wounds?" She stopped moving, staring up treacherously at the eyes above her. "They were right! They were fucking right."

The house seemed darker, more formidable, as she pushed herself inches away from the wall, pressing against the figure.

With a searing glare and a voice that refused to give in to breaking, she cursed, "Fuck. Just when I finally accepted what happened, you pop up and act as if nothing happened. You betrayed me. _Us_. You were dead! Dead, Natsume!"

She was lucid again. Raising her clenched fists to reveal white knuckles and veins popping under the translucent skin, she pounded them against Natsume's chest. Over and over, beating continuously, with words caught in her throat, she channeled her anger physically through her body. Finally, finally, her wrists were caught swiftly, deftly in the hands that she knew since childhood.

The hands were gentle, as gentle as the memories burned into her conscience. They were more calloused now though; aged, the skin rougher.

Pulled into a hug, she yanked herself away forcefully.

Words could not explain the dreadful palpitation in her chest, the pulsating fear in her temples that was hellishly frightened that this was just a dream, that this was not real. She was hallucinating, dreaming. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real. Her hands were purple with cold, throat hoarse from swallowing down emotions that threatened to wet her eyes, and she was shaking, trembling.

"This isn't real," she muttered harshly. "Get out."

"Let me – "

"Get. Out." With uncoordinated movements, she belted him forcefully in the stomach with her knee and shoved him towards the door, throwing it open before pushing him out. When he resisted, turned around, and attempted to speak again, she made a guttural noise and threw a punch at his face, swallowing the horror of seeing blood coming in contact with her fist as it leaked from his nose.

Unable to bear the consequence of her actions, the expression on his face, and the unspoken guilt that manifested itself in her core, she wordlessly pushed him through the door and slammed it shut behind her.

" _May I come in?_ "

The scene from earlier was on auto repeat.

Hidden in the dark and buried beneath her blankets, Mikan Yukihira bit her bottom lip as she lay restlessly in bed. She eyed the analog clock on her bedside table, dragging a tired hand across her face. It had struck midnight hours ago.

She didn't regret her actions. Not one bit. Even in the seclusion of her bedroom, with her uncharacteristic outburst burnt into her mind, a million questions raced through her head.

 _Why?_

 _How?_

 _When?_

 _What? What the fuck?_

Molding the thoughts into coherent questions seemed too difficult, challenging, too tiring.

She raked an irritated hand through her hair, giving up.

As all sleep fled her body, Mikan threw her covers away from her body and forced herself from her bed and limped towards hallway. Hands against the wall, she felt for the wooden railing of the stairs and made her way down gingerly.

Stepping into the kitchen, she flipped on the lights. Eyeing her battered cellphone sitting on the countertop, she grabbed it and unlocked the screen.

Of course there was a text message. Of fucking course.

The unknown, unfamiliar number offered a simple message that Mikan immediately recognized.

In characteristic Natsume Hyuuga manner, the message was simple.

 **250-243-0918** | _Our bench. NH_

And suddenly, Mikan Yukihira knew that the game was, once again, on.

* * *

 _Author's Note: So uh... it's been a while. Might continue this, might not. Spur of the moment thing._


End file.
